ROG
on Vacation
By Jill
Disclaimer:
I own nothing. Not pretending I do. No malicious, money grubbing intent.
Purely for the sake of free entertainment.
Author's Notes: I'm trying to stick to cannon for both Highlander
and the Lord of the Rings Books. I'm sure I'll make mistakes anyway,
because I haven't seen Highlander since it went off the air and although
I've read LOTR recently there are so many details I'm bound to forget
some. If it's a small, easily fixable, mistake email me. I'll change
it, eventually. If it's something big, requiring major rewrites, just
consider the story slightly AU.
I'm fond of all feedback except the pointlessly abusive. If you have
constructive criticism that's fine with me, but name calling isn't
nice.
Finally, I hope you enjoy my little story.
Chapter 1
The ringing of a phone echoed through the nearly empty dojo. With
a slightly irritated expression on his face, the dojo's single inhabitant
interrupted the kata he was in the midst of to go back to his office
and answer it. A telephone call just before midnight had to be from
someone he knew and might just be important.
"Hello?"
"MacLeod, how are you this fine evening? I hope I'm not interrupting
anything," said the voice over the phone.
"Methos," Duncan answered, "as a matter of fact you
are interrupting. I was just in the middle of my work out. What do
you want?"
"What makes you think I want something?"
"So you're not planning to ask for a favor?" Duncan said
in a highly skeptical manner.
"Well now that you mention it, there is one tiny little thing
you could do for me. There are going to be a few ancient manuscripts
available at the Thackery
estate auction and I was wondering if you could acquire them for me?"
Methos asked.
"Why can't you do it yourself?"
"How would it look if Adam Pierson, a man of modest means, suddenly
had the money to pay for ancient texts, extremely expensive ancient
texts? I can't draw attention to myself like that. Besides, I plan
to be in the Swiss Alps when the auction takes place and they're not
accepting electronic bidding," Methos replied.
"What's so important in Switzerland that it can't be postponed
a couple weeks? Are you sure this isn't a ski trip conveniently planned
to stick me with the bill? I know Adam Pierson has acted as 'an anonymous
buyer's agent' more than once." Duncan still had his reservations,
but Methos could tell he was starting to break.
"Mac, I promise I'll pay you back. As to why Switzerland... there's
an odd formation of rock covered in carvings which are older than
I am and I want to investigate. There are old references to the place
as 'World Gates' and tales of strange disappearances which I've always
dismissed as fairy tales, but in light of my new appreciation for
the supernatural I thought I'd take a look," Methos answered.
"I'm sure it will be fascinating, but why now? If they've been
there for all these millennia, I doubt another week or two will matter,"
Duncan said, still a little leery of doing Methos any favors.
"Well there's a young head hunter that's been following me, looking
for an easy kill. I'd like to avoid him if I can."
"Ah," Duncan said the light dawning a little, "Why
didn't you say so before? Of course I'll go to the auction for you.
There were a few items in the catalogue I'm interested in myself.
Do you need any help with your new 'friend'?" Any threat to a
friend immediately changing the over protective Highlander's attitude.
"No, I'll be fine. I do have several millennia of experience.
I can take care of myself." Methos said, the eye-rolling nearly
audible in his voice. "I seriously doubt this headhunter is any
match for me with a sword. I'd be surprised if he reaches the second
century mark. But, there's no sense taking chances. Even the most
skilled swordsman can have a bad day, trip over a rock or something,
and lose a fight he should have won. Just buy the manuscripts for
me. I'll be fine."
"Okay, I believe you. You can take care of yourself. But, be
careful."
"When have I ever not been careful?" the elder immortal
said with a laugh. "Just get the texts. I pick them up in a month
or two."
"I'm going to Paris in a couple weeks."
"I'll see you there then," Methos said.
"Goodbye, Methos."
The two immortals hung up their phones. Duncan returned to his workout.
Methos finished up his packing.
* * * * * * * * * *
Methos, aka Adam Pierson, drove his jeep up a road winding around
the mountain on a warm, sunny, summer day. The road wouldn't take
him directly to his destination, but he could get within a pleasant
afternoon's hike of the spot. As he drove he fiddled with his car
radio searching for a weather report. Unfortunately, the only station
he could receive clearly was one playing pop music. "Am I the
only one who thinks `Hit me baby one more time' smacks of domestic
violence? If taste isn't dead, it must be in a coma," the ancient
immortal muttered to himself as he gave up on his search and switched
the radio off.
Arriving at his destination, or as near to it as the jeep could go,
Methos parked beside the road, grabbed a knapsack containing his note
taking supplies and lunch, and set off. He enjoyed a pleasant little
hike and arrived at the stones precisely as planned.
The stones were an odd sort of outcropping. They looked a bit like
Stonehenge in that they were laid out in a circular pattern with a
central stone. They were unlike Stonehenge in that the stones were
all short, perfectly round half circles, and seemingly part of the
ground rather than merely placed upon it. Saving the carvings on the
stones, they looked as if they'd be perfectly smooth like pebbles
from a river. All in all, a not very striking arrangement. If a person
didn't know what to look for they might even overlook the stones at
first glance. Stones the same color as the surrounding land and not
above two feet in height aren't particularly eye catching.
Methos started his examination with the middle stone. The carvings
were in lines which joined at the middle and spiraled down to the
bottom of the stone, sort of like a peppermint candy. Each of the
lines was composed of tiny little figure which appeared to be some
sort of writing, many of which had worn away and become illegible
over time. Methos began by making a rubbing of the design. Then he
took photographs from every angle. Lastly he took careful measurements
of every angle and meticulously noted everything down in his notebook.
After the middle stone he started on the surrounding stones which
had similar but less complex markings and methodically worked his
way around the circle.
When he was halfway finished he took a break for lunch. The sandwiches
made by the staff at the inn were quite good, but the only beverage
available was water and the meal suffered greatly for lack of beer,
at least in Methos's opinion. As he polished off the last of his lunch
Methos began to consider leaving the rest of the work for another
day. He had planned to do it all at once, but it was boring work and
he wasn't in any particular hurry. Besides, he had already collected
plenty of material in a language he didn't recognize to keep him busy
for months if not years translating. So the decision was made, pack
up and come back another day.
Just as Methos was folding up his rubbings and putting away his notes,
he sensed the presence of another immortal. 'Damn! How'd that irritating
pup find me up here? I suppose it would be too much to hope that it
is some other friendly immortal,' Methos thought while drawing his
sword and preparing for battle.
Methos
was right, it was too much to hope. The younger immortal came out
of the trees weapon in hand. He was shortish, stoutish, and baldish
although he only looked to be in his late twenties. "I'm Nathaniel
Grey and there's no use trying to run from me Pierson. Wherever you
go I'll find you," he boldly declared.
"But, why would you want to? Why have you been hunting me? As
far as I know I've never done anything against you. I don't even know
who you are. Are you positive you want to fight me? You can still
leave without bloodshed," Methos answered in a pleading and slightly
confused tone.
"I will certainly leave without any of MY blood being shed, after
I take your head. Now prepare to die!" Nathaniel shouted as he
took the offensive.
Methos easily countered the clumsy blow and muttered, "Suit yourself,
but don't say I didn't warn you."
The two immortals exchanged blows for awhile. Nathaniel swung about
in a frenzy quickly tiring himself out. Methos managed to sidestep
most of the blows and parried the rest without so much as breaking
a sweat.
'He can't actually be this bad can he? Most first year students know
better than this. If this isn't an act to catch me off guard, I'm
almost embarrassed for him,' Methos thought. Just then a wild swing
very nearly caught Methos's arm. 'Almost but not quite,' Methos corrected
his earlier thought. 'Time to end it.'
Then Methos took up the battle in earnest. He maneuvered Nathaniel
backwards towards the center stone step by step. 'One more step, just
one more,' Methos thought. Nathaniel backed up that last step and
fell over the stone.
Standing over the stone with his sword to Nathaniel's neck Methos
asked, "Now do you want to tell me what this is all about? Or
should I just kill you?"
"Try to kill me, I dare you! A pansy scholar like you isn't man
enough to kill me," Nathaniel proclaimed.
"Pansy scholar is it?" Methos said, arching one eyebrow.
"You're one to talk seeing as you're currently lying here with
my sword to your throat."
"You just got lucky. Next time it'll be you on the ground and
then I'll kill you," Nathaniel replied.
"You really are too stupid to live." Then with a sigh, Methos
took Nathaniel's head. 'Well, that was pointless. If only the idiot
knew when to give up,'
Methos thought with a little melancholy as he watched the quickening
gather, rising in a mist from the corpse. Then Methos noticed something
different about the quickening. It, unlike every other quickening
he had ever experienced in his long life, didn't go directly toward
him. Instead the energy was being absorbed by the stones. There is
always damage to the surrounding area, with more damage the stronger
the quickening, but nothing like this. The carvings were glowing and
appeared to be moving around the stones. Then the center stone started
to pulse and expand. Seconds had passed and still Methos was untouched
by the quickening although he was keenly observing what was happening
around him. Then the center stone exploded and for awhile the oldest
man observed no more.
* * * * * * * * * *
Legolas and Gimli son of Gloin were riding together to Minas Tirith,
Gondor's capital. There they planned to assist in the restoration
of the city. Gimli was organizing dwarven help with stone work and
Legolas was seeing to the gardens. Although the city only sustained
major damage in the outer sections during the war, there was still
much to be done throughout. The kingdom of Gondor had suffered much
decline in the long years without a king and there was much that needed
putting right. Seeing as King Elessar, also known as Aragorn or Strider,
was a close personal friend of Legolas and Gimli the two were happy
to help.
The two friends rode at a leisurely pace, enjoying the countryside,
fine weather, and friendly banter with each other. Then there was
a bright flash off in the distance. "Friend-Legolas," Gimli
said, "Can you see what has happened to cause such a strange
light?"
Legolas looked toward the spot as the light flickered a few more times,
"No. It is still too distant for even elven sight. Perhaps we
should move closer."
"It does seem to be the sort of occurrence Aragorn would be interested
in knowing of," Gimli agreed.
"Hold tightly to me. There is not a smooth road ahead,"
Legolas warned as he urged their horse to a run.
Moments later they reached the source of the light and a strange sight
it was indeed. There were lights, much like lightning, flying up from
the ground and into a mass of light too bright to look upon which
hovered a few feet above the ground and the whole mass was spinning.
"What is it?" Gimli asked shielding his eyes from the light.
"I've never seen anything like it," Legolas replied, "but
I sense no evil involved."
"So whatever it is, it's good?" Gimli said with some skepticism.
"I did not say that. Though we can hope that is the case,"
Legolas said with equal skepticism. The former Fellowship of the Ring
members, although gladdened and made optimistic of the future by their
victory over the great Enemy, were not naive innocents always believing
the best of their fellow man, or dwarf, or hobbit, or whatever the
case may be.
As Gimli and Legolas were speculating on the nature of the event,
the lights dimmed, the spinning slowed, and eventually the lightning
stopped, leaving behind an unconscious man lying upon the ground.
The two approached the unconscious figure cautiously. To their surprise
they found him to be a mortal man and a seemingly ordinary one at
that despite his strange clothing. He appeared to be of about middle
height, or at least he would be if he were standing, thinnish, fair
skin and dark hair, with a prominent nose and otherwise unremarkable
features. Clothed in more typical clothing with longer hair, as was
the fashion, he could blend into almost any human city.
"Is he dangerous?" Legolas wondered aloud.
"Well he does have that sword," Gimli pointed out. "It
doesn't look to be anything special, but solid workmanship it appears.
And look," pointing to the blood on the sword's edge, "I'd
say he's used it lately."
"Even more reason to take care. But, we know not if he had good
cause for violence. Perhaps he bloodied his sword defending against
evil." Legolas said.
"You did say, you didn't think the light was evil. I suppose
we should give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, what true threat
could a single human be to an elf and a dwarf so experienced at orc
killing? Between the two of us there is no need to fear, even if he
is evil."
"Well said, friend-Gimli," Legolas said with a smile. Just
then the man began to stir. He started to rise then stopped and clutched
his head with a groan. "He does not seem capable of any threatening
action at the moment at least. Let us see if we can render assistance."
"Sir, are you hurt?" Legolas asked the man, but his only
answer was a slightly confused look.
"I don't suppose floating above the ground in a ball of light
is good for a man's wits," Gimli interjected, "Only witnessing
it hasn't been good for mine."
Legolas tried again this time more slowly, "Sir, are you injured?
I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood and this is Gimli son of Gloin. Is
there some aid we can give you?"
The man looked back and forth between Gimli and Legolas for a few
second and said haltingly, "I am Adam Pierson and I would like
it if you could tell me where I am and why we are speaking ancient
Pictish."
"This is Gondor and we are about an hour's ride west of Minas
Tirith. I've never heard of this pic-something you mentioned. Have
you Legolas?" Gimli asked.
"Pictish is an unfamiliar term to me also. What I would truly
like to know is where you are from Adam son of Pier and what has just
happened here?" Legolas added.
Adam 'son of Pier' slowly got to his feet and looked about. From a
pocket he drew out a cloth and wiped the blood from his blade. Putting
the sword away, inside a garment shaped like a robe but seemingly
worn as a cloak, Adam spoke in a language unlike any Gimli or Legolas
had ever heard before. They did not know what he said, but they could
discern the tone of disbelief and amazement. "I just now came
from Switzerland. As to what happened and how I got here, where ever
this is... That is what I'd like to know," Adam answered Legolas.
This time his speech was less halting and uncertain, but he still
spoke with a thick and very peculiar accent.
"Are you claiming to have no idea of how you suddenly appeared
here?" Gimli said incredulously.
"No, I said I didn't know what happened. I happen to have plenty
of ideas, but none of them quite qualify as knowledge," Adam
replied in a slightly condescending manner.
Seeing that Gimli was becoming somewhat irritated with Adam, Legolas
thought he should do something to head off the hostilities before
they resulted in violence. Before Gimli could answer Adam's observation
Legolas interjected, "Perhaps you should share your speculations
with us, for we haven't so much as an idea of what happened."
Adam stared at the elf for a moment and said, "It must have been
those bloody stones."
"Stones?" Legolas said.
"There was a ring of ancient carved stones high in the Swiss
Alps. There were all sorts of myths and rumors about the stones having
magical powers 'World Gates' some said. I was attempting to translate
the carvings when this happened."
"To what purpose?" Legolas said.
And at nearly the same time, "With a bloody sword?" Gimli
said.
"A bandit attack interrupted my studies. I used my sword only
to defend myself. And the reason for making the translation is simple
curiosity. I'm a scholar. Uncovering secrets of the past is what I
do," Adam answered sounding a bit put upon.
"Did any of this bandit's blood land upon the stones?" Legolas
asked.
"Well yes, as a matter of fact it did. Right on the center stone...
Ah yes I see what you're getting at. Blood as a key," Adam said.
"Why didn't I think of that before?"
"You were studying a magical structure without knowing the power
contained in life's blood?" Legolas replied incredulously. "That
is one of the most primitive and uncontrollable of all magics. Even
the wild men know of such things."
"Well there are stories, but where I come from very few even
believe magic exists," Adam said a bit sheepishly. "Until
recently, I thought magic to be a product of overactive imaginations
myself."
"No magic," Legolas said to himself. 'I should hate to live
in a land without magic.' he thought, truly appalled at the concept.
Legolas could see where that might come in handy, without magic there
could be no evil magic. Sauron and the Ring would not have been a
threat. But, without magic there would be no elves, at least not as
he knew them.
"I hate to interrupt your philosophical discussion, but what
is the point of all this talk of magic?" Gimli asked, impatient
and uninterested in mystical discussion.
"The point is that apparently what happened here is simply a
foolish mistake. If what he says is true he managed to accidentally
move between worlds," Legolas answered.
"So what do we do with him now?" Gimli asked Legolas. Adam
was observing this interchange between the two friends and clearly
wanted to make some comment.
Legolas, ignoring Adam, said, "I suppose we should take him to
Aragorn. It is his country after all and he will most likely be very
curious about Adam's origins."
"Right. We'll take him to Aragorn," Gimli agreed.
"If you two are through discussing me as if I weren't present,
I'd like to inquire as to whether or not I get any say in this. I
am the person whose fate is under discussion after all," Adam
said dryly.
"Not," Gimli answered simply, hand on ax as if daring Adam
to disagree.
"That's what I thought," Adam said, "Lead on. The sooner
we start walking; the sooner we'll reach our destination."
The three returned to the road and started walking toward Minas Tirith,
leading the horse.
Chapter 2
When Methos awoke to find himself in a place that was, one, certainly
not Switzerland and, two, not any place he had ever seen before, he
was understandably shocked and more than a little nonplused. The fact
that his head was throbbing and he found himself looking up at a hairy
midget and a pretty boy both dressed like Ren-faire rejects didn't
help matters either. It's safe to say he would have panicked, if it
weren't for the 5,000 years or so of experience acting as a hedge
against such behavior. Needless to say, Methos was off his game.
His first impulse upon waking was to make acidic comments and be generally
obnoxious. The one thing Methos hated above all else was to be in
a situation he didn't understand and had no hope of controlling. And
childish as the habit is, there is a certain comfort in taking one's
own bad mood out on others.
But, after taking a second look at his new acquaintances, Methos decided
a more cooperative approach would be safer. Despite the oddity of
their appearance, they were clearly dangerous. Methos answered their
questions and agreed to go along with them to see their friend. The
time for asking questions about the million and one things he wanted
to know about the other world, for other world it seemed to be, had
not arrived.
The three 'men' set off toward Minas Tirith. Methos was avidly taking
in the scenery. 'Those trees over there look similar to elms, but
the color isn't right,' Methos thought. And more startling were the
mountains he could see in the distance both ahead and behind him.
'I don't believe there are mountains anywhere on earth which would
fit that particular formation!' Methos exclaimed to himself. 'This
really is another world. I had my doubts when I first arrived, but
this couldn't be faked.'
Then examining his companions a little more thoroughly, Methos began
to note subtle differences, like pointed ears, which made him think
that perhaps these two were not human. "Ah.. Please excuse me
if this is a rude question, but you two aren't human, are you?"
Methos asked hesitantly.
"I'm a Dwarf!" Gimli said with pride, "What kind of
fool doesn't know the difference between a dwarf and a man?"
"There aren't any dwarves where I'm from. I didn't mean to offend,"
Methos replied. Then he looked towards Legolas questioningly.
"An elf," Legolas said, "I suppose there are no elves
in your world either."
"No," Methos said.
Then the group fell silent. 'Talkative bunch.' Methos thought with
sarcasm. 'Hopefully, when we get where ever it is we are going I can
get a few more answers.' Although the unplanned trip was a bit disconcerting
at first, the idea of a new world to explore was growing on him. If
the world's, make that earth's, oldest man had a weakness it was curiosity.
Here was a place he knew next to nothing about with people who were
only myth on earth.
Even more intriguing was figuring out the connection between his world
and this one. Why is it that they speak a language nearly the same
as one which died out millennia before at home? How did the stones
work? And perhaps more importantly, how would he get back assuming
it was even possible? Methos didn't have any pressing engagements
to get back to, although he didn't like worrying his friends. And,
this world seemed safe enough at present. Methos wasn't itching to
leave immediately, but there was too much he still didn't know. He
might need to escape some danger in the future and hopping to a new
world would be a good way to do that.
Methos was cautiously optimistic about his little adventure. The natives,
although understandably suspicious of him, didn't seem hostile. 'Not
too hostile,' Methos mentally corrected as Gimli leveled an antagonistic
look at him. 'I seem to have rubbed the short one the wrong way. I'll
have to make amends later, after I know more about the way of things.
Making enemies is not a good start.'
Methos resigned himself to his new situation and decided to make the
best of it as the trio continued to plod towards Minas Tirith.
* * * * * * * * * *
Methos/Adam Pierson, Legolas the Elf, and Gimli the Dwarf walked for
the rest of the afternoon, mostly in silence. As the sun was setting
they approached Minas Tirith, capital city of Gondor. Any lingering
doubts Methos had as to the reality of his situation were immediately
cleared up upon entering the city.
It was like nothing he had ever seen. Breathtaking stonework with
the elegance of ancient Greek marbles but designed with decidedly
Anglo-Saxon sensibilities just did not exist in any time or place
Methos had experienced. Signs of decay did not escape him though.
'Perhaps I am arriving at the end of a great empire,' Methos speculated
remembering the fall of Rome. 'If it is the end they seem to be putting
up a good fight,' he added, noting construction in progress.
Then they passed a section of burned buildings which hadn't yet been
torn down. 'Fire damage. An accident... considering the amount of
stone scorched, not likely. Fighting then,' Methos accurately diagnosed.
The immortal had seen and set enough fires in his checkered past to
recognize the signs of violence. 'It must have happened recently but
not too recently,' he also noted, considering that prime, near a cistern,
real estate doesn't stay vacant very long and balancing that with
the fact that he wasn't treated with excessive suspicion, people at
war aren't usually friendly to strangers.
'I'll have to keep their recent turmoil in mind when dealing with
the powers that be. War puts people on guard. Non-threatening is probably
the way to go. On the bright side, it looks like they won. Post war
euphoria will probably work in my favor. Happy people don't look for
entertainment in a rousing game of burn the stranger at the stake,'
Methos thought, assessing his situation and deciding on a strategy.
They proceeded through the city, Legolas and Gimli exchanging greetings
periodically with those whom they knew and they were shown respect
by all. The passage through the city made it quite clear to Methos
that in addition to being people of importance as friends of the king
the two were also quite popular with the people. He found that thought
reassuring because, although there are a few prominent exceptions,
the complete bastards aren't very popular with the people. The slightly
shady or corrupt might manage to be loved, but rarely did the truly
evil deceive people so completely.
When they reached the citadel Methos was ushered into a small side
room which was clearly designed as a waiting area with benches lining
the walls. There he waited for what seemed like hours, but was probably
only forty-five minutes or so. Waiting to meet with a man who may
have the power to decide your fate for the foreseeable future when
you know very little about the situation and most of that is speculation
is nervous work even when you are immortal.
Eventually a man who appeared to be some sort of guard, judging from
the livery and weaponry, summoned Methos to see King Elessar. 'I thought
the king was Aragorn. Some odd naming custom perhaps,' Methos pondered
to keep from over thinking the coming interview.
Methos followed the guard down several corridors and was led into
a chamber. Inside were Legolas, Gimli, and a third man, with the unmistakable
aura of royalty, who was reading something. The three were seated
around a table and appeared to have been in conference. 'About what
to do with me no doubt,' Methos thought.
The third man signed the parchment then looked Methos over with a
penetrating stare. The king appeared to be no older than middle years,
and could have been younger. Age was hard to determine because of
his weather roughened countenance. 'So this king isn't the type to
pamper himself and lead from the back. Those were usually the better
sort of kings,' Methos thought.
The man handed the guard the parchment, never stopping his examination
of Methos, and said, "Deliver this to my chamberlain."
"Yes, Your Majesty" the guard answered before leaving on
his errand.
Legolas then said, "Aragorn, I present to you Adam son of Pier
who comes to us from a different world."
"Your Majesty," Methos replied executing his best courtly
bow.
"I see you are no stranger to courtly manners," the King
observed dryly.
"I have spent some time at court Your Majesty. I've found that
kings tend to have the best libraries," Methos replied carefully
with the intent to imply that
he is a person of importance in his homeland who associates with kings
and to also imply that he has little interest in politics, only books.
The King paused for a moment assessing Methos's answer. He was most
definitely shrewd enough to pick up the implications. The question
was whether or not to believe them. "I'm going to speak plainly,"
the King said after a moment's reflection, "This land has recently
been freed from great peril of long standing. What I want to know
of you is this: Will you to seek to disrupt our new found peace, attempting
to make yourself powerful at the expense of my people? Or can I trust
you to act in an honorable fashion, not injurious to my kingdom?"
'I believe I could take a liking to this man. I get the feeling that
he is like MacLeod in that do anything for the sake of 'good' so honorable
it makes your teeth hurt kind of way, but with more sophistication
than the Highlander,' Methos thought. Then he said, "I give you
my word that I have no intention of doing anything to harm your kingdom.
My only intent is to learn what I may, especially anything pertaining
to a way to return home. You have nothing to worry about on my account."
The King nodded, accepting Methos's declaration, and said, "Then
I welcome you to Gondor as my guest. I wish you luck finding what
you seek. There are many ancient records in Minas Tirith, perhaps
one contains the key to moving between worlds."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Methos replied.
"You are welcome. Perhaps you could tell us something of your
world, later, to satisfy our curiosity," the King said as a dismissal.
"Of course, Your Majesty, I'd be honored," Methos replied
with another bow and exited the room. Legolas followed him out and
said something to a guard waiting in the hall; then the elf returned
to the king.
"This way, sir," the guard said, then set off down the corridor.
'Well that went rather well,' Methos thought. 'The King seems a decent
sort. I'll be happier when I know a bit more about the lay of the
land, but so far things seem to be turning out remarkably well. Considering
that any traveler from another world would be thrown in the loony
bin at home, being a royal guest with run of the library isn't bad
at all even if I'm only a 'guest' so that they can keep an eye on
me.'
They stopped at a door at the end the hall and the guard said, "These
are your quarters, sir. A page will be by to take you to dinner in
an hour or so." Then the man left with a nod.
Methos went in. The room was airy, spacious, and well appointed. There
was also a steaming bath waiting and a change of clothes on the bed.
"Nice," Methos said fingering the material. He quickly disrobed
and got into the tub, sword placed within easy reach. 'Not bad, not
bad at all. I think I could grow to like it here,' Methos thought
as he sank further into the warm water.
* * * * * * * * * *
Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were still in Aragorn's study discussing
Middle-earth's new addition.
"He seems harmless enough, but I'm not sure if he is entirely
what he seems," Aragorn said.
"I agree," Legolas replied, "I sense that he is hiding
something. I have no idea what that something is though. What he did
tell us appears to be true. His arrival honestly appears to be an
accident and I believed him when he stated his intentions but..."
"There is something he is not saying," Aragorn finished
for the elf. "You have been quiet on the subject," Aragorn
continued, turning toward Gimli, "What say you?"
"I don't trust him," the dwarf said, "He is too smooth.
Too polished. And did you notice his hands? I'd be surprised if he
has ever done an honest day's work."
"You are not one for passing the hours sifting through dusty
tomes, Gimli," Legolas said with affection. "That description
does support his claims of being a scholar, however."
"Hmm... Whatever Adam is hiding, he isn't a danger at the moment.
We shall just have to wait and see. Perhaps, once we know more of
where he is from and how he got here his secret will be revealed as
something harmless. Although I have my doubts about him, I will not
throw a man, who may only be guilty of being the victim of an unfortunate
accident, in the dungeon. Nor can I allow someone we know so little
about to wander free about the countryside. We will keep a close eye
upon him, until he has proven himself one way or the other,"
Aragorn said, temporarily closing the matter.
Legolas and Gimli consented to the plan. Since it was nearly dinner
time the three went off to change.
Aragorn, having to search for one of the dress boots he'd kicked under
the bed the night before, came down to the hall late. 'It is times
like this where I'm tempted to rethink my decision to not have a valet,'
Aragorn thought as he entered the hall. His eyes immediately went
to Arwen who was talking to their new guest. Arwen seemed to have
taken an immediate liking to Adam; they were deep in conversation
and she seemed to find whatever he was saying to be quite amusing.
Aragorn found this reassuring. Arwen was an excellent judge of character;
if she liked Adam he couldn't be too bad a person.
Aragorn started across the room to find out what his wife and the
stranger found so interesting to talk about, but was stopped before
he could take two steps by a lord with "urgent business"
to discuss. Then there was another person and another one with something
to put before the king. Aragorn became too wrapped up in state business
to so much as give Adam another thought.
Aragorn finally sat down in his place next to Arwen at the center
of the head table in a `u' shaped arrangement where all the most important
personages were seated. There were lower tables set in rows in the
middle of the `u' for the minor nobles.
Noticing Aragorn's slightly harassed expression. "Korvan corner
you again?" Arwen asked placing a sympathetic hand on his sleeve.
Aragorn nodded and said, "And Tirmen, and Barklin. When will
they get it through their thick skulls that I am not going to give
them exclusive trading rights with Rohan?"
"Foolish men ask foolish things," Arwen replied.
"I noticed you talking to our new guest. You seemed to be having
a pleasant conversation," Aragorn changed the subject.
"Yes, Adam is quite charming. The men of Gondor could learn a
thing or two from him," Arwen teased.
"And I had thought you were growing fond of my poor kingdom,"
Aragorn replied in a mock injured tone.
"I do love Gondor, but a little polish wouldn't come amiss,"
Arwen replied glancing over at a minor noble busily picking his teeth
with a knife.
"Point taken," Aragorn said with a smile. Then the royal
couple turned their attention to performing their hostly duties and
engaged in polite dinner conversation with the rest of the table.
The meal went on as normal. Aragorn glanced at Adam from time to time
and noted his success with his table mates. The traveler was adjusting
quite well to his surroundings, engaging in light banter with a few
minor noblemen and flattering a couple of elderly ladies outrageously.
He completely ignored Lady Dia, a pretty girl who shamelessly flirted
with all the young men, however. 'Very strange,' Aragorn thought,
'Why would he make it a point to ignore the girl?'
Eventually, the meal came to an end and the stories and songs began.
Adam appeared to take a keen interest in them and would occasionally
ask a question of the elderly ladies who had attached themselves to
him. Every once in a while he would nod to himself as if noting information
for future reference.
After Legolas finished singing he turned to Adam and said, "Perhaps
you would be good enough to tell us a story of your land."
Adam stood and said without hesitation, "I would be happy to
offer a tale for your entertainment. In exchange for your kind hospitality
it is the least I can do and I know just the story. I will tell you
the tale of King Arthur, the once and future king, who is one of my
world's greatest heroes. It all began with a sword..."
The story that followed kept the company in the hall captivated. The
story of betrayal and failure was both unlike anything they had ever
heard before and yet there were striking similarities. The powerful
wizard, a brotherhood of knights sworn to a cause, a special sword
bound up in prophesy, all these things were very familiar.
'So his world is not so different from our own,' Aragorn observed
to himself at the end of the recitation.
When Adam was finished no one wanted to follow his performance and
the party broke up. "I still don't trust him, but I must admit
the man can tell a tale," Gimli observed to Legolas.
"Yes, that he can. I'm interested to see what other stories he
has to tell," Legolas said happily, for elves are ever fond of
a good tale.
With that, they all retired for the night.
Chapter 3
The next morning Methos decided to inspect the library the king had
mentioned. 'I don't know if there will be anything pertaining to my
situation there, but it can't hurt to look,' Methos thought as he
dressed in another set of clothes provided for him. 'Even if there's
nothing about traveling to other worlds, there's no telling what interesting
things might be found there. Perhaps there'll be some records concerning
elves.'
Methos, after learning of the immortality of the elves was intensely
curious about the subject. He wanted to know exactly what was meant
by 'immortal' as the word applied to them. Did they truly live forever?
Or were they just extremely long lived? Judging from the stories they
could be killed, but how exactly? Did it have to be done in some special
way? Or were they as vulnerable to violence as men? If they truly
were immortal, how could they have children? It just didn't make sense
biologically. If no one grows old and dies there isn't any need for
children to replace them. Or were children few enough in number and
casualty rates high enough for the two to equal out? And if they do
live forever how is Legolas a prince? Do they have a prince just on
the off chance the king is killed? Does the king eventually just decide
to retire? Or is prince just an honorary title describing his relationship
to the king and he is never meant to be king? All this he wanted to
know and more, but he didn't know enough yet to ask. Methos had enough
experience entering foreign cultures to realize that what seems to
one group a simple question may seem to another terribly intrusive
and rude. Asking people would have to wait, but books were fair game.
Once Methos had dressed and adjusted his sword belt to his liking,
he set off to find someone who could direct him to the library. 'I'd
prefer a comfortable pair of jeans to this lot,' Methos observed to
himself about his medieval-esque garb, 'but there is something to
be said for being able to wear a sword openly. Hiding it under a coat
is not an ideal arrangement. Sweltering in summer and freezing in
winter because buttons take too long to undo is not my idea of fun.'
At the end of the hall he found a page who was happy to provide him
with directions to the place they kept the books and records. It seems
it wasn't so much a library as a place where they dumped all the miscellaneous
bits of writing and left them there to gather dust. The people of
Gondor had been too busy fighting the forces of evil to spend much
time with books and papers, or at least that is what the chatty page
said. Methos dismissed the mention of evil as simply a child's interpretation
of things, but he could accept that a nation at war doesn't flourish
academically. The page also mentioned that there was a crippled old
man called Tarn who looked after the place and that the great wizard
Gandalf had spent "forever" looking at things before the
war. Methos thanked the page and went on his way.
When he arrived at his destination, Methos could easily understand
what took Gandalf so long. There were scrolls and books stacked everywhere,
on shelves, on tables, under tables, all in various states of decay
and there didn't appear to be any sort of order to it. It looked like
things were randomly placed wherever a space could be found. 'Even
if there is something useful here, it will be years before I find
it,' the Immortal whined to himself. 'The sooner I start the sooner
I'll finish,' Methos added, resigning himself to the task. 'I just
hope some of this stuff is interesting, if I'm going to be sifting
through it.'
"Hello? Anybody here?" Methos called, looking for Tarn.
A few seconds later an old man leaning heavily on a cane limped in.
He was short, hunched over, shriveled like a prune, mostly bald with
a few strands of white hair left, had a squint, probably from too
much reading, and his clothing was spotted, wrinkled, and worn, but
looked to be of good quality. "Who are you? And what do you want?
I have a lot of work to do and don't need anyone coming 'round and
making a nuisance of themselves," the old man said querulously.
"Master Tarn I presume, allow me to introduce myself. I am Adam
Pierson and I was wondering if there was any information concerning
inter-dimensional travel in this... collection," Methos said
in his best grad student dealing with a difficult professor voice.
"Aye, I'm Tarn. So you are the man that came from some other
world. I've been hearing a lot about you. Not much to look at are
you? As for this 'inter-dimensional travel' I can't say as I've ever
seen anything on it, but there's plenty more I haven't read."
"That's too bad, but about what I expected," said Methos.
"The particular reference one needs is never easily available.
The only way to ever find the answer to a question seems to be through
months if not years of study. The search is usually what makes it
interesting, but there are times I wish the process were a bit faster
and easier."
Hearing the sentiments of a scholar, rather than the impatient demands
of the noble half-wits who would come to pester Tarn from time to
time, the old man became a little more disposed to helping Methos
with his inquiry. "I don't know of any particular records of
what you are looking for, but if you told me more I could maybe narrow
the search down some."
"I do have something with me which might, with luck, significantly
narrow the search," Methos said drawing out the rubbing of the
center stone which he had in his coat pocket when the 'incident' happened.
"This is a copy of the markings on one of the stones which sent
me here. Although the runes look a bit like ones from my world, they
aren't the same. I was wondering if you recognize the language?"
"I'd be happy to take a look. Spread that out over here,"
Tarn said clearing a spot on one of the tables. "Hmm... they
do look a bit like Elven runes. Wait just a second, let me fetch something,"
Tarn said scurrying off between the stacks.
"Here it is." Tarn returned a few minutes later with a scroll.
"These are the runes. They are not quite the same, although I
can see a resemblance," he said comparing the scroll with Methos's
rubbing. "These two here could almost be the same if you just
changed that bit there," he added, pointing to two specific characters.
"And if you changed the other side of it, it would be a Germanic
rune. Could they be a combination of the two? Half Elven and half
German?" Methos wondered aloud.
"It could be at that. It would make sense for a thing that was
a sort of.. bridge between the two worlds, using a language that was
partly of each," Tarn agreed.
"So if I were to learn the Elven runes, I should be able to translate."
"I should think so, but I'm afraid I can't help you there lad.
Not many elves still use the runes. I can recognize them when I see
them and pick out a bit here and there, but I can't claim to be able
to read them."
"Who can read them and might be willing to help?" Methos
asked.
Tarn thought for a bit and replied, "There's one in that lot
Prince Legolas brought to Ithilien, Sandir. He came by here once to
look the collection over. Bookish sort, might lend a hand out of curiosity.
I'll write to him for you, but don't expect him to reply right away.
Elves don't look at time like normal folk. A year or two might go
by before you hear back from him."
"That would be much appreciated. If he does take a few years
getting back to you, it still looks like I have plenty to keep me
busy," Methos said looking about the room. "For one, I don't
see any writing in an alphabet I recognize. Although the spoken language
is close enough to one I know, I suspect I still need to learn to
read it."
"And you should see to learning Elvish as well. That alone could
take years."
"I had better get started then. Would you happen to have some
simple grammar books I could use to start with?"
"I think there are some texts that belonged to the old steward's
sons when they were boys around here somewhere." Tarn rummaged
through a pile of books on a corner table until he located a small
dusty blue book. "Here you are," he said handing it to Methos
then pointing to the other side of the room, "A desk with writing
things is on the other side of those shelves. Now I have work I need
to get back to."
Methos thanked Tarn for all his help and adjourned to the desk. He
passed the morning deep in study and had managed to make some headway
by lunch time. Although the characters were different from what he
was used to, they weren't too difficult to figure out phonetically
since he already understood the spoken language. He figured he should
be reading well enough to do a little research in just a few months
although writing in a comprehensible manner would likely take a bit
longer. On the academic front, things were proceeding quite nicely.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Months passed and Methos quickly settled in. After the first month
or so the routine was set and he was no longer anything new. Blending
in was a particular talent of his and he did it very well in Minas
Tirith. Mornings were spent in study, he had quickly picked up the
common tongue and now was starting in on the mass of records. Afternoons
were usually passed at, The Red Hat, a friendly tavern at which the
proprietor was willing to give Methos's wealth of beer making pointers
a try. And evenings were usually reserved for court dinners where
Methos entertained the company with earth tales; Shakespeare was a
big hit, at least in the cliff notes version.
He was fairly happy with his situation all in all. He had a plentiful
supply of good beer. His studies were progressing. Most people liked
him, but dismissed him as unimportant and harmless which was exactly
the response he was looking for. The chance to show off in the evenings
was kind of nice as well. Methos had always had an exhibitionist streak,
but usually avoided bragging out of prudence.
And the best part, there didn't seem to be any other Immortals. Elves
were immortal, but there weren't any of his sort of, decapitate your
opponent, immortals. He realized there might be some, elsewhere, but
he didn't think so. His type of immortal just didn't seem to fit anywhere
into the histories of the various intelligent races. The belief that
Immortals didn't exist in Middle-earth wasn't something he could prove,
but the assumption just seemed right. He took a wait and see approach
just to be on the safe side, but did relax his guard a little.
* * * * * * * * *
About three months after Adam's arrival, Legolas was talking to Gimli
late one night over a glass of wine.
"But, was Hamlet mad or only pretending to be?" Legolas
asked the dwarf.
"It hardly matters whether he was in his right mind or not. They
all died in the end in any case," Gimli replied.
"They all die at the end of most of Adam's stories. Hamlet's
state of mind would assist in explaining the why in this one."
"Most of the tales do end in death, now that you mention it.
A grim sort of place he must come from if all they speak of is betrayal
and murder," Gimli observed somewhat sympathetically.
"I thought you did not like him, that he was rude and useless?"
Legolas inquired.
"He's not so bad as all that. The other day he told me of some
methods used in his land by Romans, a people famous for their architecture,
for building aqueducts. Using the Roman methods the work should be
done in another six months."
"Human craftsmanship which is better than that of dwarves. My
ears must be deceiving me or else the world is coming to an end and
the sun shall not rise tomorrow," Legolas teased his friend.
"I didn't say better. I said faster. The end results will not
be up to dwarven standards of elegance and beauty, although they will
be serviceable enough. I am only willing to use such inferior construction
methods because the city is in such desperate need of new water works
and because the whole of it will be buried out of view," Gimli
corrected not finding the elf at all funny.
"I stand corrected. Perhaps you could show me these inferior
works and point out the deficiencies," Legolas offered in apology
knowing that, after exploring caves, showing off his latest project
was one of Gimli's favorite things to do. Taking great interest in
anything man-made--or dwarf-made as the case may be--was a dwarvish
character trait.
"I'd be happy to give you the tour," Gimli replied, "It
is a very interesting process despite being inferior to actual stonework.
Meet me at The Red Hat tomorrow afternoon."
"The Red Hat?" Legolas asked.
"A tavern just inside the north gates," Gimli answered.
"Best tavern in Minas Tirith, since Adam took over the beer making
anyway."
"A brewer too? Adam is a man of many talents," Legolas observed.
"He's a sharp one," Gimli agreed unimpressed. "Don't
ask him anything about the beer making," Gimli warned, "If
you do he'll wax eloquent for an hour or so about the wonders of the
beverage."
"Sounds rather like certain hobbits we know," Legolas said.
"A bit," Gimli agreed, "but a great deal more pretentious."
"I'll keep that in mind. I appreciate the warning," Legolas
said. "Now back to this Hamlet fellow. You never said if you
thought him truly mad or not."
"If he wasn't mad to begin with he must have been by the end."
"Why do you say that?"
"If he were only pretending madness he would not have..."
Legolas and Gimli talked far into the night of Hamlet and many other
things as friends tend to do.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Legolas arrived at The Red Hat the next day at the appointed time
along with Aragorn who thought inspecting the progress of the water
works would be a nice change from trade agreements and tax revisions.
Sampling the beer seemed like a good idea too.
The tavern was well kept with sturdy tables and benched and fresh
rushes on the floor to soak up the spills. It was also well lighted,
as such places go, with several windows along each wall letting in
the sunlight and fresh air. There wasn't much of a crowd, men having
already returned to work from their noon break. The only inhabitants
other than the tavern keeper were a group of men in one corner playing
at some game of chance, Adam at his favorite table under one of the
windows, papers spread about, taking notes, Legolas and Aragorn. Gimli
had not arrived, so Aragorn and Legolas went to see what the scholar
was working on.
"Good afternoon," Aragorn said to Adam who was too involved
in what he was doing to notice their approach.
"Good afternoon, Prince Legolas, Your Majesty," Adam said
starting to rise from his seat.
"No need for the formalities here," Aragorn said waving
Adam back to his seat, "And simply Aragorn will suffice. I happen
to be evading my kingly duties at the moment."
"Well then, would you like to join me for a drink?" Adam
asked, "The beer is excellent."
"So I've heard." Aragorn said taking a seat and motioning
to the tavern keeper to bring beer.
Legolas, having glanced over the Adam's notes, said, "I see you've
taken an interest in Elvish. Very few men bother."
"The inscription on the stones which brought me here was partly
Elvish. The possibility of a way to return home is a strong motivation,"
Adam said with some self deprecation. "Nothing against Gondor,
mind you. Minas Tirith is a beautiful city and everyone has been more
than kind, but..." he quickly added, remembering to whom he was
speaking.
"It is a foreign country and you are among people strange to
you," Aragorn finished for him.
"Being separated from your family and friends without knowing
if you shall ever see them again must be extremely difficult for you,"
Legolas said with some sympathy thinking of his own turmoil. On one
hand the elf had a desire for the sea, but on the other hand he did
not want to be separated from his friends and family quite yet.
"Since my wife died, I haven't much in the way of family, but
there are some good friends who probably think me dead by now. Mac
has probably even managed to figure out a way to take on personal
responsibility for my death by now," Adam said musingly, giving
some thought to the probable events taking place back on earth.
"Why would this `Mac' think he was at fault?" Aragorn asked.
"Because Mac is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, noble warrior
and fussy, hardheaded, old woman who is incapable of minding his own
business. He is firmly convinced that correction of every mishap or
minor evil since the creation of the world is somehow his responsibility,"
Adam explained.
"Someone has to take responsibility, or evil will run rampant,"
Aragorn pointed out in contradiction of Adam's mocking description.
"I suppose you're right about that, but sometimes it can be bloody
irritating. I'd much rather spend a quiet evening at home than rush
about, risking my neck, righting wrongs which never did me any harm,"
Adam said plaintively.
"If you would rather not help, why do you?" Legolas asked,
somewhat amused by Adam's unique point of view.
"Mac's a friend. I could hardly refuse him help when he needs
it," Adam said with some indignation.
Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a meaningful glance and had to smile
at that declaration. They could both see right through Adam's pseudo
cynical pose to the honorable man lurking beneath.
"My apologies for being late," Gimli, who had arrived during
that last exchange, said. "Laying the last batch of concrete
took longer than expected."
"We weren't in any particular hurry," Aragorn replied, putting
Gimli at easy.
"Shall we go then?" Gimli asked.
"Anxious to get back before any of your workers make a mistake
I see," Legolas observed, knowing what a perfectionist Gimli
was and how demanding he could be of his subordinates.
"That's right. No telling what kind of foolishness they'll get
up to without me there keeping eye on them."
"Let us go then," Aragorn said finishing his beer, "before
disaster strikes. Adam would you care to join us?" He added remembering
the scholar.
"Why not? I doubt I'll get much more work done today," Adam
said, shoving his papers into a sack.
The four strolled over to Gimli's work site, located just outside
the gates. There they saw large sections of concrete in wooden frames
and stacks of unused building materials everywhere. A half dozen workers
were still at work on the last section on the other side of the yard,
but most of the crew had been sent off to start digging, a task Gimli
thought simple enough for them to manage alone. They stopped by the
largest single piece which was roughly circular in shape and about
30 feet in diameter; Gimli explained it was to be the roof of the
central hub.
"As soon as the sections in the frames are finished and deemed
sound the first stage of the project will be finished," Gimli
explained as he showed them around the site. "The first stage
is to make the upper sections of the tunnels which can't be constructed
in place. Next we will dig the trenches for the completed works and
make them water tight with more concrete. Then these sections will
be put into place and cemented together. And once we have made sure
that all the joints are sealed properly and the water flows smoothly
the whole thing will be covered over again."
"And how long should this take?" Aragorn asked.
"If all goes according to plan, six months give or take,"
Gimli said.
"Large open trenches in the streets of Gondor for six months,"
Aragorn said sounding unhappy with the idea.
"It really can't be done any faster than that. Originally, I
was planning on nearly a year. It's not as bad as it seems on the
surface. This is only in the outer city. Hardly anyone lives there,
the drainage is so bad," Gimli said in defense of his project.
"That is true. I couldn't imagine such a project in the inner
sections."
"You won't need it there. The original work was much better done
and should last another millennia at least."
"What was that?" Legolas, who had been inspecting one of
the giant concrete slabs, asked.
"What was what?" Adam asked, surprised at the usually polite
elf's interruption of his concrete making explanation.
"I didn't hear anything," Gimli added.
"Quiet," Legolas ordered holding up a hand for silence.
"It's a creaking noise a bit like... wood cracking."
The four of them looked at one another for a split second then they
all ran out of the shadow of the slab. And not a moment too soon did
they run, for within seconds a loud groaning sound issued from the
wooden frame and the slab began to fall. All four had managed to clear
the area before the slab hit the ground, but only just barely. Gimli
would almost definitely have been squished if Legolas hadn't practically
thrown him the last few feet. Dwarves, although having the endurance
for distance running, were not sprinters.
After assuring themselves that no one was hurt, the four just stood
there staring at the concrete slab, the wooden wreckage, and the rising
dust in shock. All of them had had plenty of experience facing death,
even the two immortals, but danger coming so unexpectedly on a normal
day was surprising to say the least.
Gimli was the first to snap out of it. "I don't know what could
have happened, but I plan to find out. That has been standing there
for a month and men were crawling all over it. It makes no sense,"
he said stomping over to the remains of the foundation.
"I'd be interest to know the reason for this as well," Legolas
agreed following Gimli.
Aragorn and Adam nodded in agreement and joined the elf and the dwarf
in their inspection.
Gimli
was circling around the remnants of the foundation looking for the
weak spot. When he got to the front side he found what he was looking
for. "Over here," he shouted to the others. When they had
gathered around the spot he indicated he said, "Notice anything
strange about these supports?"
"They're smooth, like they were cut through," Aragorn said.
"But how? And why? There hasn't been anyone besides the four
of us near here since we arrived and if they were cut earlier why
would they not collapse till now?"
"Magic," Legolas said. "There's a lingering hint of
it on the wood. I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about the spell
other than the fact that there was one there. Magic is not one of
my talents."
"I doubt the details of how it was done matter. What difference
does it make if the culprit sawed the planks and used magic to stick
them together or if he used magic to cut them at a distance? What
matters is the motive," Gimli said.
Adam, quiet up till now, finding himself a bit out of his depth dealing
with magical matters, asked, "Who knew the king was coming here
today?"
"Half of Minas Tirith probably," Aragorn said contemplating
the possibility of an assassination attempt, "This morning, I
told Legolas I'd come in front of Lady Dain. She likely told the entire
court before breakfast."
"But who would want you dead?" Legolas asked.
"Any number of people I'm sure." Adam replied. "Assassination
attempts come with the crown, or at least they do where I come from."
"Whoever
did this took great pains to make it appear an accident," Aragorn
said. "If they think we believed it so, they won't know I'm looking
for them. What truly happened here today will go no further than the
four of us."
Legolas, Gimli, and Adam swore to keep the secret and to help track
down the would be assassin.
Chapter 4
After swearing to keep the incident that afternoon just between the
four of them, they formed a tentative plan of investigation. Gimli
and Legolas would study the manner in which the attempt on Aragorn's
life was accomplished. Aragorn and Adam would look for those with
a motive. Then they would meet later that night to discuss what they
found out.
Methos, having quickly made friends among the gentry, working on the
theory that one can't have too many friends in high places, spent
most of the evening fruitlessly looking for unrest. Much to the cynical
Immortal's amazement, King Elessar was almost universally loved. There
were a few grumbles about taxes and trade regulations which no longer
favored noble interests over those of commoners, but even the loudest
complainers had to admit improvement to their lives. The gold lost
in tax revenue was insignificant compared to the fortunes which no
longer went to supporting a war effort or defending against common
criminals. It was unanimous, the return of the king was a great blessing
for the land of Gondor. As the evening came to a close and the appointed
time of their meeting approached, Methos was becoming increasingly
sure that the assassin had to be a foreign power or an enemy with
a personal grudge against the king.
"Adam, I would speak with you," a beautiful voice called.
Methos
was about to leave the hall and adjourn to Aragorn's study to make
his report, when Arwen cornered him for the second time that night
just before he reached the hall door. Arwen knew there was something
bothering Aragorn which Methos was involved in and figured Methos
to be an easier source of information than her husband. Methos had
a hard enough time keeping the secret the first time and was sorely
tempted to spill, 'She's going to find out anyway. There has not been
a man yet who can keep a secret from his wife for long, if she's determined
to find out,' he rationalized to himself. Then Methos spotted one
of Arwen's greatest admirers approaching and thought better of revealing
the truth. 'That fool, Landon, will distract her long enough for me
to slip away. He'll struggle to stutter out some ridiculous ode to
her beauty. She'll feel obliged to devote her attention to him out
of pity. I'll make my excuses and be gone before Arwen can follow
without hurting Landon's feelings.'
"My lady, I am at your disposal. What do you care to discuss?"
Methos said agreeably.
"That,
I find rather doubtful. You have been avoiding me all evening,"
Arwen replied, not buying Methos's innocent act.
"My
sincerest apologies if I have given that impression. I would have
gladly spent the entire evening in your charming company, if other
social responsibilities had not stood in the way. I'm afraid one such
approaches even now," Methos said. "Landon, my dear fellow,
how are you this evening? I hear that the first shipment of your eastern
trading scheme arrived only yesterday. I'm sure the queen would be
most interested in all the details. I'm afraid I must take my leave.
The king is expecting me." With that smoothly run together speech,
Methos made his exit.
Arwen sent an irritated glance toward the retreating Immortal. Then
taking up her social duties, Arwen gave Landon a bright smile and
said, "Yes, Lord Landon, do tell me of the shipment. Are the
embroidered silks as fine as the samples my ladies found so enchanting?"
"Th-they are f-finer. The most b-beautif-ful cloth I've seen.
Although n-not a m-match for your beauty. N-nothing could b-be,"
Landon said.
* * * * * * * * * *
Methos
entered Aragorn's study moments later, feeling slightly guilty about
Arwen. Landon was nice enough, but he would be fawning over Arwen
for the next half hour at least. Methos was the last to arrive. Gimli
appeared to be assuring Aragorn that the water works were still proceeding
on schedule with no major damage to the concrete section. Legolas
was pouring himself a glass of wine.
"I'm not late am I? Arwen knows something is going on and was
trying to pry it out of me," Methos excused himself.
"You didn't tell her, did you?" Aragorn asked sounding slightly
concerned.
"No, I didn't," Methos said.
"Why keep this secret from her?" Legolas asked. "Arwen
is unquestionably trustworthy."
"It isn't a question of trust. I have complete faith in my wife.
I just don't want to trouble her needlessly," Aragorn explained.
Legolas and Methos exchanged a skeptical look, both knowing the futility
of the king's plan. "As you think best," Methos said dismissing
the subject of the queen. "What have we found out?"
"For one thing those poles were cut by a person," Gimli
started off. "There were the marks of a saw blade on the stumps.
Whoever did this had to have been at the site earlier today."
"And the spell which held the two ends together was a fairly
simple one which can only be released by the spellcaster himself.
Whoever put the trap there in the first place had to be within sight
of it to spring it," Legolas added.
"So our culprit had to be present during our visit and was there
earlier that morning. Did any of your crew notice anyone suspicious?"
Aragorn said, turning toward Gimli.
"Aye, they noticed a big bald man with a limp leaving the yard
when they came back from their mid-day meal, but he was on the opposite
side of the yard from them. No one could give a better description."
"What of the spellcaster?" Methos asked, "Does that
provide us with any clues?"
"There aren't very many humans who use magic, but most of them
keep their practices a closely guarded secret. Witchcraft is greatly
feared by the common people. Even if we knew the names of those who
used magic, there's no way to know which one did this. The spell is
simple enough for even the simplest hedge witch," Legolas answered.
"A tall, bald, man with a limp and elementary magic use isn't
much in the way of evidence," Aragorn observed. "And, I've
had even less luck searching for a motive. There are no foreign threats
to speak of. The lords of the west are my allies and the lords of
the east are still too disorganized from the fall of Mordor to turn
their eyes to Gondor. Within Gondor, I can find no reason either.
I have reviewed my past decisions in which there was an unhappy party,
but can find nothing I'd credit as a motive for murder."
"I have found much the same thing. You are apparently universally
loved, Your Majesty," Methos said. "Although, some personal
animosity kept well hidden is still entirely possible, I begin to
think that we might be barking up the wrong tree."
Gimli, Legolas, and Aragorn, not understanding Methos's figure of
speech, looked at him questioningly.
"We assumed that the target was the king, but Legolas, Gimli
and myself were all within range of that block as well. I'm not ready
to abandon our original assumption quite yet. The most obvious answer
is usually the correct one. But, we should keep in mind that it is
only an assumption," Methos clarified.
"I don't have any enemies, that I know of," Legolas said.
"I don't think I was the one he wanted dead."
"That goes for me as well," said Gimli.
"And since I only joined the tour as an afterthought, I'm not
likely to be the target either." Methos conceded. "As I
said, the most obvious answer is likely the correct one, but it doesn't
hurt to explore all the possibilities."
"Back to the matter at hand," the King said, "where
do we go from here?"
"We track down the bald man. And stay alert for another attempt.
What else can we do?" Legolas asked somewhat rhetorically.
"I'll ask the regulars at the taverns near there if they've seen
him," Methos offered.
"Perhaps my crew will remember something else," Gimli added.
"And I'll find what I can about magic users in the area,"
Legolas said.
None of them sounded very optimistic about the possibility of finding
anything. 'In all likelihood, we'll have to wait till the next attempt
on Aragorn's life before we find anything new,' Methos thought. 'These
people just aren't devious enough for this type of thing. There isn't
even an intelligence agency in Gondor. In any normal country, there
would be professionals with connections to find the culprit. Although
I don't doubt their skills on a battlefield, I'd be greatly surprised
if this investigation goes well.'
Responding to the pessimistic turn the group had taken, Aragorn said,
"My friends, I know you are worried for my welfare, but I assure
you I am well able to defend myself. This assassin won't catch me
off guard, now that he has revealed himself. He may live to make a
second attempt, but I swear that attempt will not be successful."
Somewhat reassured by the king's supreme confidence, Gimli said, "We
will wait and keep a careful watch. This cowardly worm will be caught
eventually."
The rest of the group nodded their agreement and they all retired
for the night.
* * * * * * * * * *
Aragorn entered the chamber he shared with his wife and found Arwen
sitting at the window brushing her hair. He paused just inside the
door, momentarily stunned by his wife's beauty. Most of the time he
didn't give much thought to his wife's appearance. He knew she was
beautiful, but she was simply Arwen, the woman he loved. Even if she
wasn't beautiful, he would love her just the same. But, every once
in a while, the truth would occur to him. Arwen would smile or say
something to him, and it would hit him. Arwen Evenstar was the most
beautiful woman in Middle-earth and she loved him.
Aragorn strolled across the room and joined Arwen on the window seat.
One of the rare smiles which made him appear years younger on his
face, he absentmindedly took the brush from his wife's hand and started
running it through her hair.
"Hmm... that's nice," Arwen said.
"Is something wrong?" Aragorn asked, knowing Arwen usually
gazed at the stars from their bedroom window when troubled.
Arwen stiffened, remembering her husband's peculiar manner this afternoon.
She decided to give Aragorn a chance to tell her what was going on
before taking the offensive. Whatever it was, it only began that day.
Perhaps, he was simply waiting for a good time to talk to her. "Adam
was avoiding me all evening," she said to give him an opening.
Aragorn saw what she was doing, but wasn't quite ready to tell her
what she wanted to know. "That must have been terrible, having
to make do with an inferior quality of compliments," Aragorn
stalled with a feeble joke. The king's ability for deception suffered
remarkably in the presence of his wife.
"Actually, in the few minutes he did speak to me, Adam paid me
a great compliment." Arwen answered, giving Aragorn a little
more time before giving her what she expected to be unpleasant news.
"He said I reminded him of his late wife, Alexa."
"His Alexa must have been a remarkable woman," Aragorn said.
"Adam described her as one of those rare people who make the
world seem a better place just by being near," Arwen said glancing
over her shoulder at her husband.
Aragorn put the brush down and circled around Arwen to face her. Looking
into her eyes he said, "He was right, Alexa had much in common
with you. You make the world better by your very presence. Without
you all would seem dark."
"All the more reason to lean on me when trouble comes. I love
you and I want to help. Despite, my fragile appearance, I will not
break under the burden."
Aragorn sighed and said, "Adam and Legolas didn't think I could
keep it from you, but I didn't want you to worry."
"Then I shall worry about what I don't know. It seems your plan
is flawed," Arwen pointed out.
"This afternoon's accident was no accident. Someone wants me
dead," Aragorn stated baldly.
Arwen paled a bit then said, in a steady voice, "I had hoped
that after the defeat of Sauron we could enjoy a peaceful life. Do
you have any idea who could be behind this?"
"Not yet, although we, Gimli, Legolas, Adam, and I, are looking
into it. Whoever he is, he's clever. If Legolas hadn't been there
to warn us of the collapse, King Elessar would have died in an unfortunate
accident this afternoon," Aragorn told Arwen. If he was going
to share the truth with her he was going to share all of it, without
trying to distort the danger into something less than what it was.
Seeing Arwen's fear for him he added, "He only came so close
because he caught me off guard. I am wary of him now, and he will
not come so close again. I swear to you that this assassin will not
be my death."
"Make sure you keep that promise," Arwen ordered. "I
could not live without you. If you die, I'll never forgive you."
Aragorn smiled at Arwen's declaration and said, "I love you too.
And not to worry, I always keep my promises."
* * * * * * * * * *
Much to Methos's surprise, he did manage to track down the bald man
or, to be more precise, he tracked down the tavern at which the man
was a regular. It was actually pretty easy, because in Gondor baldness
wasn't too common. Male pattern baldness wasn't a common trait among
the Dunedain or their mixed blood descendants. Add to that a limp
and their culprit was a rather distinctive fellow.
The owner of the tavern, a dark, smoky, pit of a place that served
cheap ale and cheaper women, was happy to give Methos all the pertinent
details about the man in exchange for a little monetary encouragement.
The bald man's name was Dirk. Dirk was a nasty customer who was drummed
out of the town watch for disobedience and excessive brutality. During
the war he was injured in one of the buildings that collapsed and
the resulting limp turned him into an even more unpleasant drunkard
than he already was. He was the type that would gladly participate
in unsavory business if the pay was good enough. And last the tavern
keeper heard, he was squatting in one of the partially damaged buildings
on the outskirts of the city which hadn't been torn down yet.
Methos briefly considered questioning Dirk on his own, but quickly
dismissed the idea. `I might be able to make quicker work of getting
the information from him,' Methos thought, reflecting back on his
experience as a legendary evil, `but the others will definitely want
to be in on it.' So Methos went back to the citadel and informed Aragorn
of his discovery. Aragorn and Legolas decided to go with Methos to
see Dirk, while Gimli decided to skip it in favor of continuing his
construction project since the others were more than capable of handling
a single ruffian on their own.
Late in the afternoon, Methos, Legolas, and Aragorn, clad in the utilitarian
and non descript apparel of a Ranger, set out for the bad part of
town.
"Velvet and ermine would be more than a little out of place where
we are going and I'd prefer to avoid drawing attention to myself,"
Aragorn explained in response to Methos's inquiring glance as they
set off on their errand.
When they reached the section of damaged buildings which the city's
poor had claimed for their own, Legolas looked around at the squalor
and people in ragged clothing, many of them old or crippled and was
appalled, "How can these people live in such conditions?"
he asked, somewhat rhetorically.
Methos shrugged having seen much worse and said, "It isn't all
that bad. No one looks to be starving at any rate."
"Of course no one is starving," Legolas replied, "Minas
Tirith is the wealthiest city in Middle-earth and this year's harvest
was excellent. Why aren't these people who can't care for themselves
being seen to?"
"I am doing what I can, but there are so many injured in the
war and so few willing to take on the responsibility. Even those still
capable of work have a hard time finding it. There are more able bodied
men who were soldiers than work for them to do. The crippled have
even a harder lot," said Aragorn, frustrated with himself for
not having found a solution to the problem.
"If this is the extent of the problem, you shouldn't be too hard
on yourself. Most cities I've visited have a significantly larger
poor section than this and as slums go this is probably one of the
nicer ones. Besides, no matter what you do there are always going
to be those who are going to live like this because they'd rather
drink themselves into a stupor than do an honest day's work,"
Methos said pragmatically.
"Where exactly did you say this man was to be found?" Legolas
asked, changing the subject.
"Actually, I didn't say, but we're almost there. He lives on
the second floor of that building up ahead on the left, the one with
peeling green trim and missing a door," Methos replied, nodding
toward the building in question.
The three arrived at their destination and cautiously entered the
building. The bottom floor was empty, gutted by fire some time in
the past, with a rickety staircase along the back wall. The elf stopped
and sniffed the air clearly smelling something unpleasant. "The
smell of death," Legolas explained.
Aragorn drew his sword and lead the way up the stairs. Halfway up,
Methos and Aragorn picked up the sickly sweet scent of decay Legolas
had detected earlier. Aragorn slowly pushed open the door at the top,
letting out the eye stinging fumes which had been trapped inside the
room, unsure of what they would find. Inside the room there was a
filthy pallet against one wall, a pile of dirty rags next to it, and
a body dead several days. Luckily, it was the middle of winter, so
it wasn't too ripe, but the noxious odors trapped by the windows shuddered
against the cold were still pretty bad. Aragorn sheathed his sword
and Methos, handkerchief to his face, opened a window to let in some
fresh air. Legolas, with a pinched look on his face, examined the
body.
Dirk was pinned to the floor spread eagle with a knife through each
hand and each ankle. His tongue was cut out, and his throat was slit.
There was a stack of gold coins on his chest.
"He must have been killed just after he cut the poles,"
Aragorn observed. "to keep him from talking, no doubt, but why
leave the coins?"
"Who can understand the reasoning of a mad man?" Legolas
replied.
"The knives pinning him down, they show real malice. I don't
think this is just a case of destroying witnesses. The tongue and
the coins... perhaps Dirk here attempted to blackmail his employer,"
Methos mused.
"I'm afraid there is nothing to provide us with a clue to the
assassin's identity here. Those knives are common kitchen knives,
as can be found in any market place. There is nothing to be tracked
here," Legolas said.
"Agreed," Aragorn said, "we shall have to wait for
our enemy's next move."
The three returned to the citadel, stopping a guardsman on the way
to inform him of the body. They were disappointed by their lack of
progress, but resigned themselves to wary patience. The assassin was
a danger, but not a great power. They had all faced worse before and
were confident, at least for themselves, of eventual success if they
went carefully at present. Aragorn had his reservations about the
competence of his new friend `Adam,' but reassure himself that Adam
had already been helpful and the scholar wasn't in any particular
danger. Methos had his doubts about Aragorn too, thought he was perhaps
a little too self assured, but had learned long ago the futility of
arguing with a king.
* * * * * * * * * *
Months passed, winter turned to spring, and there were no further
attempts on Aragorn's life. Everyone settled back into their routines
and began to think the assassin had lost his nerve. Methos had returned
to his translation project and was making progress in learning to
read Sindarin with occasional assistance from Arwen and Legolas. Legolas
was considering finally making his long postponed return to Ithilien.
Gimli was nearing the end of his project.
One sunny afternoon, Methos was passing the time observing weapons
practice which was held in the forecourt daily. `Very interesting,'
he thought, `A mixture of eastern and western European techniques,
but not a hint of Asian marital arts.'
The Lord-Captain in charge of the exercise noticed Methos watching
and swaggered over to speak with him. `Damn, there's no way I can
get out of speaking to him,' the Immortal thought, `That jackass won't
leave me alone till I fight him, all because that nitwit Dia keeps
throwing herself at me. Maybe I should just give him what he's asking
for. Knocking him on his ass a few times might teach him a valuable
lesson and I shouldn't shirk my duty to help build the character of
the younger generation.' When the Lord-Captain approached him, Methos
greeted the young man with an ever so slightly evil smile.
"Care to test that blade you carry about against my own, or is
it just a fashion accessory?" the younger man said, getting right
to the point.
"I could do with some practice, now that you mention it,"
Methos said honestly enough, he had continued with his normal morning
workout in his quarters, but hadn't engaged in any actual sparing
since his arrival in Middle-earth. "I'd be happy to take you
up on your offer," he said fishing in his pocket for a thong
with which to tie back his hair which had grown to nearly shoulder
length in the past months.
"Yes.. whenever you're ready," the Lord-Captain answered
a bit startled at Methos's easy acceptance of his challenge. He was
expecting the scholar to be intimidated.
Methos secured his hair and drew his sword. "Right then, shall
we proceed?" he asked motioning to the open area in front of
them.
The two swordsmen faced off, saluted each other and the fight began.
The Lord-Captain started off strong, not expecting much of a fight
out of his opponent. He thought Methos's confident pose was simply
that, a pose, and his bluff would be swiftly revealed. Unfortunately
for him, he was wrong. Methos's abilities with a sword far out shone
those of the Lord-Captain and he was familiar with techniques totally
foreign to the younger man as well. The Lord-Captain didn't stand
a chance. Methos had him disarmed with a sword to his throat in seconds.
"That was... unexpected," said a man from the side of the
yard cast in shadow. "I don't believe I've ever seen anything
quite like that. Although I must admit, it appears useful. An elbow
to the head must be fairly distracting. Is that the normal practice
in your homeland?" he continued as he came closer revealing himself
to be none other than the king.
"Your
Majesty," the Lord-Captain saluted Aragorn, embarrassed that
the king had witness his humiliating defeat.
"Your Majesty," Adam said bowing to the king, the formalities
had to be observed in public, "Normal enough, I'd say. A common
sentiment is that the only ones who observe rules in a fight are the
stupid and the dead," he said a bit sheepishly.
"A very sensible approach even if it doesn't evoke grand notions
of honor and glory," Aragorn said with approval, having long
out grown youthful enthusiasm and lust for glory. "Would you
care for another match, or have you had enough practice for one afternoon?"
Aragorn asked, hand on the hilt of his sword
"It would be an honor," Methos agreed thinking to go easy
on Aragorn since it wouldn't do to publicly humiliate a monarch, especially
not if he's a friend.
Combat began and Methos quickly adjusted his assessment of the king.
Aragorn was good, even better than himself perhaps. The two danced
about the courtyard for some time alternately gaining and losing ground.
The guards stopped their practice to watch the interplay between two
such highly skilled and equally matched swordsmen. Methos had thousands
of years of experience and an ungodly number of sneaky tricks at his
disposal, but Aragorn had a much greater natural talent with a sword
and had plenty of practical experience equipping him to deal with
the unexpected. Back and forth they fought until the Immortal began
to tire. Aragorn had spent most of his life fighting the forces of
evil where Methos had spent the past few centuries running from fights.
Methos was unable to raise his sword fast enough to properly parry
a blow. Aragorn's sword slid along the length of his sending him off
balance. Aragorn swiftly took advantage of Methos's loss of control
and slipped under the Immortal's guard.
Methos, glancing down at the sword pointed at his heart, conceded
Aragorn's victory. As soon as Aragorn acknowledged his surrender and
the fight was officially over, total exhaustion hit the immortal.
"I could murder a cold beer about now," he said trying to
catch his breath.
"As could I," Aragorn agreed sheathing his sword, tired,
but not nearly as worn as Methos. "Good fight."
"That it was. Good thing my friend Mac wasn't here to witness
it, he'd be nagging me about getting more practice." said Methos.
"Mac, he'd be the busybody old woman?" Aragorn asked.
"That'd be the one."
The two of them wandered off together in search of that cold beer
discussing fighting techniques and Aragorn doing his best to pry the
secret of how a scholar got to be so good with a blade out of Methos.
The best explanation he got however was, "Legacy of a misspent
youth." Methos may be good with a sword, but he is a master at
avoiding questions he doesn't want to answer.
Chapter 5
King Elessar was sitting in the only substantially made piece of furniture
in the queen's solar reading through the latest dispatches concerning
Gondor's efforts to eliminate the last vestiges of Sauron's army.
There were problems early on with bands of orcs and human bandits
attacking travelers, but it was now under control and the roads were
for the most part made safe. He wasn't devoting all that much attention
to them, truth be told. It was a pleasant day and the late afternoon
sun streaming through the windows was beckoning him to go riding.
Just as Aragorn was about to invite Arwen, who was busily working
upon the royal finances across the room, to ride with him, Legolas
appeared in the open archway which served as the room's entrance.
"A message just arrived for you. It seems important. The messenger
was very concerned," Legolas said bringing a letter to Aragorn.
The king opened the letter and swiftly scanned the contents, his expression
becoming increasingly displeased. "Ill tidings?" the elf
asked.
"Korvan and Tirmen are on the brink of war," Aragorn answered.
"But, I thought them the best of friends?" Legolas said.
"They were. They arranged a marriage between Korvan's daughter
and Tirmen's son, but the girl apparently didn't agree with her father's
choice and decided to elope with Tirmen's nephew. Now Korvan is blaming
the nephew and demanding the dowry back and Tirmen's blaming the daughter
and refusing to return it," Aragorn explained.
"Do these men tire so fast of our new found peace that they must
go looking for a reason to fight?" Legolas exclaimed, in agreement
with the king's frustration. "Spilling the blood of a man you
called friend all for the love of money is madness."
"The fact that this has its root in an attempt to force love
where it would not go makes it doubly so," Arwen added.
"I doubt it will come to bloodshed," Aragorn said. "I
will see to that. If I leave early tomorrow with a swift horse, I
should reach their lands by evening."
"Will your guard be ready to leave by then?" Legolas asked.
"I'm not taking them. I would not want to inflame an already
tense situation by leading in a troop of armed guards. Tirmen and
Korvan are foolish and hotheaded, but they are loyal men of Gondor.
Also they were close friends of long standing before this upset and
with some persuading shall probably be so again. I'll go alone to
settle this matter before it results in violence."
"But what of the threat upon your life?" Arwen said with
some concern. "Traveling alone would leave you vulnerable to
attack."
"There has not been so much as a hint of danger to my life in
the past six months. In failing the first attempt it looks as if the
culprit has gone to ground and given up the project. I can not live
the rest of my life in fear of what might happen," Aragorn said.
"You can't know that he has given up. Perhaps the assassin is
simply waiting for the proper moment, looking for a time when you
might be vulnerable," Arwen argued looking to Legolas for support.
"Although I had begun to think the danger past, and my errand
this afternoon was to take my leave of you and finally return to Ithilien,
I see much merit in Lady Arwen's point. After all, the first attempt
was hastily planned and opportunistic, the villain taking advantage
of a sudden break in your routine to arrange an apparent accident.
It could be that there has been no second attempt because you are
too well guarded, always surrounded by a flock of court functionaries.
Traveling alone to settle this mess would provide an excellent opportunity
to one who means you ill."
Aragorn could see the sense in what his friends had to say, but still
he was reluctant to bring a large escort. "I'm still hesitant
of the possible consequences of bringing an armed escort and will
not chance them to defend against something which remains only a slim
possibility. Even if some attack were planned, remember I am well
able to defend myself. For many years I walked alone fighting against
those who would see me dead. I am not defenseless."
"I know you are capable of protecting yourself, but I worry none
the less. A large guard might worsen the situation, but what harm
could there be in a few of your friends accompanying you on your errand?
Surely Lords Tirmen and Korvan won't be threatened by a mere handful
of men," Arwen persisted.
"Very well, to set your mind at ease, I'll invite a few friends
along for the ride. Legolas, would you care to accompany me on my
errand?" Aragorn asked.
"I'd be happy to. Gimli will likely wish to come as well,"
Legolas answered.
"Should I ask Adam, in the interest of symmetry?" Aragorn
said not overly concerned about tomorrow's journey. The weather was
pleasant. The destination wasn't far and although the reason for the
trip was an irritation, Aragorn was confident he could easily sort
it out.
"I don't see why not," the elf replied dryly. "I heard
he did quite well on the practice field several days ago."
Aragorn sent messages to Gimli and Adam asking for their company the
next day and got positive replies. The company was to assemble in
the forecourt just after dawn the next day.
* * * * * * * * * *
Legolas and Gimli were the first to arrive in the forecourt that morning.
"Tell me again why exactly Adam is coming with us?" Gimli
asked.
"Symmetry, Aragorn said," Legolas answered.
"Symmetry?" Gimli said with some skepticism.
"Whimsy then. Aragorn doubts the necessity of taking companions
on this trip, but if he's wrong Adam should be a good man to have
around."
"Yet another of his hidden talents coming to light. Who is he
truly? He has been here a year and is still a mystery. He claims to
be a scholar and spends enough time with old records to prove his
claim true, but then he's also a brewer, a carpenter, and most lately
a great warrior. The pieces don't fit together," Gimli complained.
"Yes, he is something of a mystery, but whatever his secrets
are they are his to tell as he chooses. He has been a friend to us
this past year, and I believe him to be trustworthy. Whatever it is
he keeps hidden shall likely be revealed in time," Legolas defended
Adam.
"I didn't mean he was untrustworthy only that there is more to
him than he would have us believe. Just what he is hiding is what
I would like to know," Gimli said.
"As would I," Legolas agreed, closing the conversation,
since he heard the topic of their conversation approaching.
"Morning," Adam said with a yawn. "Looks like we have
a nice day for it," he observed looking up at the sky.
"Good morning," Legolas returned the greeting.
"Where's Aragorn?" Adam asked.
"He went to get the horses," Gimli said.
"Odd job for a king." Adam observed.
"So many years as a Ranger has ingrained the habit of seeing
to his own travel arrangements," Legolas explained.
Just then, Aragorn arrived leading three horses. The four quickly
mounted their steeds and they set off.
* * * * * * * * * *
Methos, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli rode out of Minas Tirith at a leisurely
pace. Aragorn wanted to settle the matter that day, but even at a
sedate amble they would reach their destination before sunset. Gimli,
riding behind the elf, was no horseman and would rather not gallop
if he could avoid it. Methos was rather glad of the slow start himself.
He was an experienced rider, but was also a city dweller who hadn't
had much occasion to ride in the past century. 'Thank the gods for
small favors,' Methos thought, 'if it weren't for Immortal healing
I'd be hobbling this evening. There's much to be said for the comforts
of modern travel.'
The four rode in silence at first, appreciating the beauties of nature
and not wanting to disturb the hushed quality of early morning when
the leaves are still coated in dew. After a while, when the world
became well awake, they exchanged idle banter to pass the miles.
"How are your studies progressing?" Legolas politely inquired
of Methos.
"Actually, I've finished the translation of the fragment I had,"
Methos answered.
"And it didn't contain the answers you wanted," Legolas
assumed since Methos was still there.
"No it didn't, that would be too easy," Methos replied.
"There were some clues. It said passage was from 'gate to gate'
which leads me to believe there is another gate where you found me.
When we return from our errand I'll see what I can find at the site."
"I didn't see any stones like you described in the clearing,"
Gimli said.
"The gate on my side was none too imposing as a structure which
could easily have been covered over. Perhaps the gate here is simply
buried. Or then again it could be in some other form altogether. Either
way it's my only lead and it can't hurt to look," Methos said,
not overly concerned. After all, he had all the time in the world
to solve the puzzle.
"That could be," Gimli said, "I'll help you look. If
there's something buried, I'll find it."
Aragorn, silent through the conversation, suddenly stopped his horse,
dismounted and pretended to adjust the saddle. He motioned for quiet.
"I believe someone is watching us from those trees," he
said softly, looking at a clump of trees to the left of the road up
ahead.
Legolas looked to the spot indicated by Aragorn and nodded his agreement
after noticing the gleam of sun on metal where there should be no
metal. "A man in armor."
"It seems your fear for my safety is not without foundation.
I very much doubt that man and whatever friends he has with him are
here to toast the king's health," Aragorn observed dryly.
"It's starting to look like this won't be a wasted trip after
all," Gimli said, fondling his ax.
"What's the terrain like just ahead?" Methos asked thinking
of the possible fight coming.
"The road dips and curves around a small patch of trees. Good
place for an ambush," Aragorn said.
"Ah, I see. Then perhaps we should be going back to the city
now, for reinforcements," Methos suggested.
"No, I don't think that will be necessary. Now that we know they're
waiting for us we should be able to take care of this without help,"
Aragorn said confidently.
"But, there are only four of us and we don't know how many of
them," the Immortal protested, not liking fights with uncertain
outcomes.
"The cover along the road is dense but small. There couldn't
be more than twenty men hiding there and probably less than that,"
Aragorn said.
"Only twenty, let's get to it then," Gimli said impatient
with all the discussion. "If Adam is afraid to fight, the rest
of us should be up to the task without him."
"If you're sure you want to do this, I'm in," Methos said
with resignation. "Better safe than dead I always say, but you're
the natives. You know best how to proceed." 'Or at least I hope
they know best,' Methos mentally added, 'I have a bad feeling about
this, but anything potentially dangerous to my life and limb usually
gives me a bad feeling.'
"If we're going to attack, we should do it now, before they realize
we're coming," Legolas said.
Aragorn remounted and they headed toward the hiding men at a run.
Just around the bend in the road they found their supposed ambushers,
eighteen men in all. They were standing at alert but not truly prepared
for battle. The group's sudden burst of speed had caught their lookout
off guard and the ambush never received a signal.
Aragorn was the first to reach the men. He cut down one and managed
to slice another one's arm from horseback, but he was not experienced
in fighting mounted and fought better on foot so he quickly dismounted
when the enemy was pushed back enough to give him room. He was quickly
surrounded by six of the remaining men.
Legolas and Gimli pulled up short and dismounted before engaging in
the fight. The dwarf was uniquely unsuited to mounted warfare and
the elf could do very little with a passenger. Even so they were wading
in to assist Aragorn, Legolas with his knives and Gimli with his ax,
soon after the fight began. Gimli and Legolas swiftly dispatched two
men apiece and started working to distract some of Aragorn's opponents
Methos was the last to join the fight, but was the most effective
of the four. He was well versed in the ways to make use of a horse's
strengths in a fight. He trampled one man and beheaded a couple others
making good use of the horse's momentum. Then he dismounted as well,
not wanting to be thrown by a horse that wasn't battle trained.
Legolas, Gimli, and Methos were having no trouble at all holding their
own with only two opponents apiece, but Aragorn was hard pressed with
the other four concentrating on killing him. Aragorn managed to eliminate
the injured man, but the remaining three were still giving him trouble.
Thankfully, the men were not the best trained of warriors, because
even the unskilled are dangerous with the right numbers and if they
were any better the king would be dead. The best swordsmen can still
only concentrate on so much at one time. His only hope was to hold
on till one of his friends was free to assist.
After what seemed an eternity to Aragorn but was mere moments, Legolas
had finally defeated both of his opponents and was rushing across
the road to help his friend, when out of the corner of his eye Methos,
still busy with his last man, noticed a man about to swing at Aragorn's
unprotected back. Knowing the elf would never reach Aragorn in time,
he did the only thing he could do, he threw his own sword at Aragorn's
attacker.
The hilt of the Ivanhoe hit the man in the shoulder throwing his attack
off to one side of Aragorn. Aragorn used the man's imbalance as an
opening to slice the man open. Legolas, who'd silently reached the
fight, stabbed another man in the neck. Aragorn swiftly dispatched
the last man then Legolas and Aragorn surveyed the rest of the fight.
Gimli, having killed the two men attacking him, was just taking care
of the last remaining man by hitting him in the face with his ax.
Methos without a sword didn't do so well. He was sitting at the side
of the road propped against a tree. He was painfully dragging out
the blade currently lodged in his entrails, knowing the revival process
would be much more unpleasant if he didn't get it out.
Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli gathered around the fallen immortal, stricken
by his apparently fatal injury. "My friend, I should have listened
to you. This shouldn't have happened," Aragorn said, his voice
laden with guilt.
Methos finally managed to pull the long blade from his body with a
wince of pain then said, "No, it shouldn't have but... I haven't
enough time to explain right now, but the guilt really isn't necessary."
"I don't understand," said Aragorn.
"There are things you don't know about me--" Methos broke
off with a gasp of pain. "Just wait ten minutes before donning
your hair shirt. You'll see."
Then he murmured, "Damn, I truly hate this part," and died.
"What was he trying to tell us?" Aragorn asked. "Wait
ten minutes for what?"
"I don't know," Legolas answered, equally mystified by Adam's
strange behavior. "Perhaps it is some sort of custom in his land,
to honor the dead."
"And what was that about a hair shirt? Could that be what they
wear for funerals?" Gimli added.
"He was a brave man who died for my sake. I shall follow his
wishes, no matter how strange. It is the least I can do," Aragorn
said still feeling truly guilty.
The three stood mute, contemplating Methos's body when a strange thing
happened. What looked like small bolts of lightning danced across
the gaping wound repairing damaged flesh as it went. "What magic
is this?" Gimli asked.
"I've never seen anything like it," Legolas replied.
Just then Methos, making an abrupt return to the living, gasped and
sat up. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas were struck speechless in shock.
None of them had ever seen or heard of anything like this. "How
is this possible? You were dead," Legolas said the first to regain
his bearings and ask the question that was on all their minds.
'I hope I'm right about being the only Immortal in this world.' Methos
thought to himself. 'There's no way I'll be able to fob them off with
some half truth or evasion. Without any headhunters liable to come
looking for me I feel a lot better about revealing myself.' Methos
braced himself for the unpleasant task of explaining himself and said,
"I'm an Immortal and I can not die." Then looking down at
his bloody shirt he added, "at least not permanently."
* * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile, back on earth, a certain Highlander was placing a phone
call...
"Joe's," a female voice answered the phone.
"Is Joe there?" Duncan asked.
"Who may I ask is calling?" she said.
"Duncan MacLeod"
"Hold on just a sec, Mr. MacLeod. I'll get Joe," the woman
said, recognizing the name.
"Hey, Mac. How's Paris? Should I start packing my bags?"
Joe answered the phone.
"No need to make the trip unless you really want to. It's been
pretty quiet of late. I'll probably be heading back to the States
in another couple weeks anyway. Actually, I was wondering if you've
heard from Methos lately. He was suppose to meet me here, but he hasn't
turned up..." Duncan explained, sounding a little concerned for
his missing friend.
"Last I saw him, was about four months ago; he was off to Switzerland
for some research. He must have found something pretty interesting
and lost track of time," Joe said, not too concerned.
"That's what I thought at first, but he's two months late and
not answering his email. And, before he left he mentioned an Immortal
after his head. I'm getting worried."
"I see what you mean. Disappearing for a few months isn't out
of character, but he usually lets us know he's dropping out of sight
beforehand," Joe said starting to worry. "Another Immortal...
I suppose it's possible, but if Methos was killed I can't imagine
the watchers not knowing about it. A quickening of that magnitude
from a supposedly young and unimportant immortal would cause a sensation,"
he continued for his own benefit as well as Duncan's.
"There is that," Duncan said slightly relieved. "If
he's not dead, where is he?"
"I don't know," Joe said. "I'll do a little poking
around. Maybe that Immortal hunting him's watcher knows something
about his whereabouts. Did he say who it was?"
"He didn't name any names or go into detail. Young and incompetent
is all I know."
"Well, that doesn't narrow it down very much," Joe said
with a sigh. "Maybe I'll get lucky though."
"Thanks, Joe. I really appreciate this."
"No problem. He's my friend too, you know. I'll call you back
in a couple days to let you know what I've found," Joe said.
"Right, well I'll let you get on with it then." Duncan said,
somewhat reassured about his friend's continued existence, but still
worried.
"Bye, Mac. Take care." Joe said good naturedly, tolerant
of the Highlander's overprotective tendencies.
"You too." Duncan said.
* * * * * * * * * *
Back in Middle-earth another Immortal had some explaining to do...
"How is this possible? Men are not allowed immortality. Only
the darkest of magics are able to grant even the semblance of immortality
to men," Legolas said with some confusion and a touch of suspicion.
"I really don't know how it works. No one does. In my world Immortals
just are. We're born with the potential to live forever and become
immortal after our first death. If there's dark magic involved, I
don't know about it," Methos answered the elf's suspicions.
"Explain this 'becoming immortal' and 'first death.'" Aragorn
commanded remembering the effects of the ring and sharing the elf's
concerns about dark magic.
"We grow up as perfectly normal humans. We get sick, injured,
and we age normally. As a matter of fact, rarely does an Immortal
know he's anything other than normal before dying the first time.
Immortals can identify those who're going to be immortal, but it's
considered bad form to tell them about it beforehand.
"If a pre-Immortal is lucky enough to survive to old age and
die naturally, he stays dead. But, if he dies before his time the
immortality kicks in. That's the first death. Afterwards we stop aging
and can heal just about anything, even mortal wounds," Methos
explained with some reluctance.
"You think those that get to die are the lucky ones? How very
strange," Legolas observed thinking about the fall of Numenor
and Iluvatar giving men the 'gift'of death which they didn't want
to accept.
"There are definite draw backs to being an Immortal. We still
live with mortals. Watching all your friends and loved ones grow old
and die isn't a lot of fun," Methos answered with just the slightest
touch of bitterness creeping through.
"I see." Legolas nodded in sympathy, thinking of what his
own reaction was likely to be upon Gimli and Aragorn's deaths.
"If you came by this immortality so innocently, why did you keep
it a secret?" Gimli asked.
"It's one of the first rules you learn. Never let anyone know
you're immortal. We have to live with mortals. The fear and jealousy
can lead to some pretty ugly things. Burning at the stake wouldn't
kill me, but I can't speak for my sanity afterwards. Thus far we've
blended in well enough that very few mortals even know we exist and
I for one would like to keep it that way," Methos said.
"If your kind is so adept at hiding, could there be more of you,
native to this world?" Aragorn wondered aloud.
"It's possible," Methos answered, "but not likely.
Considering the size of Minas Tirith and what I've been told about
the numbers of people in Middle-
earth, I should have run into one by now. Uhmm... Perhaps we can continue
this later? This isn't the ideal time and place for it," he suggested
looking around at the armor clad corpses in the clearing.
"Good point. First things first. We will continue this later,"
Aragorn agreed with a look which clearly said Methos wasn't going
to weasel out of answering questions about what he was.
'Damn, he's going to be like a dog with a bone, not letting me be
until he knows every little detail. I doubt he'll know the right questions
to ask to get to the worst of it, but even without bringing up the
Horsemen this is going to be really unpleasant. I truly hate explaining
myself when I'm not sure of the reaction I'm going to get. And to
make things worse, they'll be extra suspicious of me because of their
history with men and immortality. I don't think I'll be able to slip
any convenient fabrications past them,' Methos squirmed mentally.
"Are all of these dead?" Aragorn asked gesturing at the
bodies.
"I'm afraid so." Legolas answered.
"There wasn't time or opportunity to save one for questioning.
We were too hard pressed just defending ourselves to spare a moment
to take a captive," Gimli said a bit defensively.
"A situation which was entirely my fault, if I had taken a few
more men..." Aragorn broke off still feeling a little guilty
for not taking the situation seriously but feeling considerably better
than he did when he thought 'Adam' dead.
"If you'd taken a few more men, there probably wouldn't have
been an attack," Methos pointed out. "As is, at least we
can learn what we can from their remains."
"Learn what? They're common bandits. We need to know the name
of their employer and I doubt they carry his name in their belt pouches
scribbled on a bit of parchment," Gimli asked still somewhat
disgruntled by the near death of the king and his failure to keep
someone alive for questioning.
"His name on a bit of parchment would be nice, but even without
it there's still something to be learned. These men aren't common
bandits. They're too clean and their armor and weapons are a little
too well kept for them to be bandits," Aragorn observed bending
down to inspect the body closest to him.
"Now that you mention it, they were better fighters than bandits
tend to be," Methos agreed.
"Soldiers then. Mercenaries or men loyal to your enemy?"
Legolas speculated.
Aragorn pulled off one of their helmets, revealing features which
marked the man as an easterner. "Eastern mercenary most likely.
There could be some enemy to the east I'm unaware of, but the armor
is in the style of Gondor. An eastern noble would have no reason to
provision his men with western goods."
"There's something about that stitching I should remember,"
Gimli muttered to himself staring at the neck of a tunic visible above
the leather armor.
Methos came over to look at it as well. "It does look familiar."
He pondered a minute and said, "Lady Dia."
"That's right. She made a real nuisance of herself complaining
about her seamstress being from Gorimet and hemming her favorite dress
with that stitch," Gimli said.
"So Aragorn, who has repeatedly thwarted the schemes of Lords
Korvan, Tirmen, and Barklin, sets out to stop a fight between former
close friends Korvan and Tirmen. On the way, he is attacked by eastern
mercenaries which Barklin could have hired through his eastern trade
contacts who are clothed in tunics which were made in Tirmen's lands,"
Legolas summed up.
"Korvan has a lot of influence in Gondor's armory guild,"
Gimli added.
"It all fits together," Aragorn said grimly, clearly not
wanting to believe the three friends were behind the scheme.
"Fits together a little too well if you ask me," Methos
said. "Unless it's a double bluff."
"What is a 'double bluff'?" Legolas asked.
"It's when a criminal intentionally makes himself look guilty
so that he can say, 'If I did it, would I be stupid enough to let
myself look guilty?'" Methos explained.
"I take your point," Aragorn said. "Although, those
three may be behind the plot, I'm still far from convinced. We'll
just have to proceed to Korvan's keep as originally planned. If this
was all an elaborate scheme to murder me, the proof we need will be
there and if there truly is unrest I can't afford to let it go unchecked."
"If Korvan is trying to kill you, going to his keep will put
your life at further risk." Legolas argued.
"No, the 'accident' and this anonymous attack leads me to believe
secrecy is very important to the assassin. If it is Korvan, killing
me in his own keep would be too obvious," Aragorn replied.
"And if you're wrong?" Gimli asked.
"Let us hope that I'm not. I have to chance the visit in any
case," Aragorn said, his mind made up.
'Perfect, how do I manage to get myself into these things? All I've
ever wanted was a nice peaceful, safe, life. Instead, I'm riding off
into a possible nest of vipers in order to avert a war accompanied
people who know I'm immortal when I wished they didn't. It's all MacLeod's
fault. If it weren't for him my conscience would still be resting
peacefully. I could have played dead and headed off in the opposite
direction when they weren't looking. But, no, letting Aragorn feel
guilty for my not actually dying would be wrong,' Methos thought as
they climbed back on their horses and continued their journey. "Bloody
Highlander." he muttered under his breath.
"Did you say something?" Legolas asked.
"No, it's nothing." Methos replied.
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